sat for a long time, no speakin, just haudin hauns.
The funeral wis on the Wednesday and the days in between were a blur of folk comin an goin, of makin sandwiches an drinkin mugs of stewed tea, sayin rosaries an pourin oot glasses of whisky for men in overcoats. His body came hame tae the hoose and wis pit in their bedroom. Ma mammy slept in the bed settee in the livin room wi ma Auntie Pauline.
Are you sure that you want tae see him?
Ah wis sure. Ah couldnae bear the fact we’d never said goodbye and kept goin ower and ower in ma mind whit ah’d have said tae him if ah’d known he wis gonnae die so soon. Ah wis feart as well, right enough. Ah’d never seen a deid body afore, and ah didnae know whit tae expect, but he looked as if he wis asleep, better in fact than he’d looked when he wis alive, his face had mair colour, wis less yella lookin an lined. Ah sat wi him fur a while in the room, no sayin anythin, no even thinkin really, jist sittin. Ah felt that his goin wis incomplete and ah wanted tae dae sumpn fur him, but that’s daft, whit can you dae when sumbdy’s deid? Ah wondered if ah should ask ma mammy but she wis that withdrawn intae hersel so busy wi the arrangements that ah didnae like tae. She still smiled at me but it wis a watery far-away smile and when she kissed me goodnight ah felt she wis haudin me away fae her.
On the Wednesday mornin ah got up early, got dressed and went through tae the kitchen. Ma Auntie Pauline wis sittin at the table havin a cuppa tea and a fag and when she looked up her face froze over.
Whit the hell dae you think you’re daein? Go and get changed this minute.
But these are ma best claes.
You cannae wear red tae a funeral You have tae show respect fur the deid.
But these were ma daddy’s favourites. He said ah looked brilliant in this.
Ah mind his face when ah came intae the room a couple of month ago, after ma mammy’d bought me this outfit fur ma birthday; a red skirt and a zip-up jaicket wi red tights tae match.
You’re a sight fur sore eyes, hen.
That sounds horrible, daddy.
He smiled at me.
It disnae mean that, hen, it means you look that nice that you would make sore eyes feel better. Gie’s a twirl, princess.
And ah birled roon on wan leg, laughin.
*
They claes are no suitable for a funeral.
Ah’m gonnae ask ma mammy.
Ah turned to go oot the room.
Don’t you dare disturb your mother on a day like this tae ask her aboot claes. Have you no sense? Clare, you’re no a baby, it’s time you grew up and showed some consideration for other folk. Get back in that room and put on your school skirt and sweatshirt and your navy-blue coat. And ah don’t want to hear another word aboot this.
In the bedroom ah threw masel intae a corner and howled ma held aff. The tears kept comin and comin till ah felt ah wis squeezed dry and would never be able tae shed anither tear. Ah took aff the red claes and changed intae ma grey school skirt and sweatshirt and pit ma navy-blue coat ower it. Ah looked at masel in the full-length mirror in the middle of the wardrobe and saw this dull drab figure, skin aw peely-wally. Ma daddy would have hated tae see me like this but ah didnae dare go againsts ma auntie’s word.
The only bit of me that had any life aboot it wis ma eyes fur the tears had washed them clean and clear. A sunbeam came through the windae and ah watched the dustspecks dancin in its light. There was a hair on the collar of ma coat and it lit up intae a rainbow of colours. As ah picked it up and held it in ma fingers, an idea came tae me. Ah went tae ma schoolbag which had been left lyin in the corner of the room since Friday, took oot ma pack of glitter pens and unwrapped them. Ah took the gold wan, squeezin the glitter on ma fingers then rubbin it intae ma hair, then added silver and red and green. The strands of hair stood oot roon ma heid like a halo, glisterin and dancin in the light. Ah covered the dull cloth so it wis bleezin wi light, patterns scattered across it, even pit some on ma tights and ma shoes. Then ah pressed ma glittery fingers on ma face, feelin ma cheekbones and eyebrows and the soft flesh of ma mouth and the delicate skin of ma eyelids. And ah felt sad for a moment as ah thought of the deid flesh of ma daddy, lyin alone in the cold church. Then ah stood and looked in the mirror at the glowin figure afore me and ah smiled.
Subtle, daddy?
Aye, hen, subtle.
Even through the blanket and layers of warm clothing, Anna felt the cold penetrate her skin. Stretching across the horse’s back, she reached her arms along its neck, gouging into the ice with a metal scraper. Her arms ached. A chunk of ice snapped off, revealing the misted glass body of the horse. After only a few seconds, the coating renewed itself, a frosting of icing sugar this time which wiped off as easily as dust but kept forming and re-forming. Tired of her work, she slid off the horse’s back, and stood at its head. She started to polish its face, rubbing her cloth into the furrows of its curly mane and the carved detail of flared nostrils. Tentatively she touched its left eye and the film peeled off like a cataract.
Immediately the crystals of ice re-formed and the eye dimmed, though tiny sparks of light shot from the white mask. Anna knew it was pointless to continue, since it was so cold that it would keep icing over, yet she could not stop. She wanted to see the horse in his true magnificence, to rock back and forth on his broad back. Most of all she longed to look into his eyes and hold their gaze.
The door of the shed creaked open and her mother entered. A blue mohair scarf was wound tightly round her neck, almost covering her face, and she pulled it away to speak.
‘Are you still trying to clean up that old thing?’
‘It’s no use. It’s too cold in here. Can we not bring him into the house?’
‘No.’
‘But he’s so beautiful. He would work properly if he didn’t have to stay in this freezing old shed.’
‘I’ve told you. He has to stay here.’
She touched Anna’s shoulder, her hands cocooned in quilted gloves, clumsy as oven mitts.
‘Come into the house. It’s tea-time.’
Anna followed her across the yard. The light had faded but snow cast a reflected brightness and the path glittered. Pausing at the doorway, Anna turned to look back across the yard to the shed.
In the kitchen, heat blasted them from the open fire. Grandfather’s house was old-fashioned, very different from the one where she lived with her mother. When they came to visit, their lives were different too, following his ways.
‘He’s an old man,’ her mother would say. ‘It costs you nothing to please him.’
Grandfather was already in his place and Anna slid into the chair next to his. Her mother lifted the big pot from the stove and placed it on a metal trivet
